No Good Deed
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Sometimes you just have to know when to keep your big mouth shut.


"No good deed goes unpunished, Curry," the sheriff sneered as he swung the heavy iron cell door shut with an oppressive clank. He secured the lock and put the keys in his chest pocket with a flourish.

A resigned sigh escaped from the Kid's lips despite his best efforts to ignore the taunt. His eyes scanned the small cage noting the lumpy, stained mattress dressed with a thin, tattered blanket and no pillow before they came to rest on a none-too-clean pail tucked into one corner. The cell next door was even worse.

"You would've gotten clean away if'n you hadn't pulled up like that," continued the portly lawman as he went to his desk and sat down. Settling in comfortably, he leaned back and crossed his boots, resting them up on a corner of the scarred surface while studying his famed prisoner. He and the missus sure were going to enjoy spending that ten grand. They'd get themselves outta this hellhole backwater and maybe get them a place on the beach in San Francisco, watch the tall ships come in and out of the harbor. He smiled contentedly and leaned further back.

Bedsprings squealed as Curry sat down on the protesting bunk facing his jailer, his penetrating blue eyes drilling into the sheriff's pale gray ones. "You sayin' I shoulda run down that woman and her boy?"

"Why not?" shrugged the older man. "Wouldn't be the first time you killed in cold blood now would it?"

There was no point in continuing the conversation as far as the Kid was concerned. He lay down and stared at the cracked ceiling. He'd never be able to convince the sheriff he had a strong moral code when it came to killing and had never killed except in self-defense. His widespread notoriety had destroyed any chance he'd ever had of explaining.

"Guess you and Heyes ain't as tight as folks say you are. He never broke stride when you stopped. Nosiree, left you in the dust, he did."

The Kid ignored him. He knew Heyes would circle back and bust him out. All he had to do was be patient and keep his mouth shut. Two things he was very, very good at.

"Ain't no honor amongst thieves, that's what my mama used to say. Yep, Heyes is probably in some saloon by now whoopin' it up with the rest of the gang." The gray eyes narrowed watching Curry and hoping for a reaction. Not receiving one, the lawman prattled on. "What does he care you might hang?" He gloated at the tiny fraction of a flinch he detected. "That's right, boy, folks 'round here work hard for their money. Banks don't print their own cash, you know, it's the sweat of good people that fills their coffers and right now those same good people are thinkin' up ways to break in here and stretch that skinny neck of yours. Who knows, I just might let 'em do it."

"You mind piping down, Sheriff? I'd like to get some shuteye."

"Shuteye? Ha. You ain't hearin' what I'm sayin', Curry. You might just be gettin' all the shuteye you need soon and your partner don't give a damn."

"I heard you." Heyes would be coming up with a scheme right now. The Kid hoped he kept it simple. The sooner the better if this chatty sheriff didn't clam up.

"How'd you two partner up, anyways?"

The Kid laced his hands behind his head and thought back to those hot, dusty days of his childhood. He and Heyes had been normal kids, no different from the other farmers' sons they'd grown up with in rural Kansas. Full of mischief and high spirits. Then the war had come along and none of them had been normal after that. He and Heyes had ended up in an orphanage fighting to survive amongst a whole bunch of angry, deprived kids. It had changed them a lot. They'd learned how to fight back, how to win the upper hand by force or by wit; they'd learned that authority wasn't always for the good of the many; they'd learned that you had to stand up for yourself and take what you needed.

Little had they known they'd had it better than others with a roof over their heads and three squares. Then they'd aged out of the orphanage and onto the street. Everyone'd been starvin' for food and work. They'd tried begging at first but it hadn't taken them long to figure out no one was gonna help two scrawny boys who could barely pull their weight. At the time, it'd only seemed like one small step across the line between honesty and stealing. Heck, it hadn't been a step at all; he and Heyes had literally plunged headlong right over that line.

"Ain't talkin', huh? Well, I guess you're right pissed Heyes rode off and left you. I know I'd be. All that time you bein' his hired gun and keepin' him safe and he ups and dumps your ass."

Curry shifted onto his side, turning his back to the sheriff. If only he could plug his ears like a schoolboy. Heyes better hurry it up.

A light knock tapped on the door distracting both men.

"'Bout time that little gal brought my dinner," the sheriff grumbled as he swung his feet off the desk and stood up, stretching his back. He sniffed appreciatively as the fragrant scent of lamb stew permeated the planked door. "Sorry, Curry, I didn't have time to send out for somethin' for you what with all the excitement of the robbery n' all." He crossed to the door and paused with his hand on the butt of his six-gun. "That you, Maisie? What took you so long, girl?"

"Sick," replied a strangely hoarse feminine voice.

The hungry lawman pulled open the door as he said, "Well, come on in outta the cold and…," only to find the barrel of Heyes' own gun pointed right between his eyes.

The dimpled, dark-haired man pushed through the entrance forcing the sheriff to step back quickly. "That's right friendly of you, Sheriff! Why don't you have a seat and rest a spell?"

"What took you so long?" asked the Kid, standing up and grabbing the bars to his cell door.

Surprised, Heyes looked up and grinned, "I had to pick up dinner."

Another, much shorter man stepped inside the office behind Heyes holding a bowl of stew. "Howdy Kid. Heyes n' me figured you'd be a might peaked by now."

"Thanks Kyle," replied the Kid. "Pass that through, will you? We ain't got much time."

Kyle slid the bowl through the small opening in the bottom of the door and turned away to take over tying up the sheriff while Heyes searched the man for the keys to the cells. Curry picked up his dinner and began to wolf it down, chewing quickly as he watched his friends.

"You ain't gettin' away with this, Heyes. I'll have a posse on you so fast your head'll spin clear 'round," sputtered the lawman as his face grew redder and redder. Heyes plucked the keys from the sheriff's shirt pocket and went to release his partner.

"I'm tellin' you, you're dead meat, Heyes. You and that baby-faced partner of yours."

Kyle chuckled at the threat.

"You too, you little…ow!"

With a hard yank, Kyle finished securing the sheriff to his desk chair. Satisfied with his handiwork, he seized the back of the chair and dragged it into the empty cell next to the Kid's just as Heyes unlocked the iron door holding his partner captive. Curry stepped out.

"Hold on," said the Kid to his friends as they crossed to the front door. He reached up and untied the sweaty bandanna hanging around his neck. Balling it up, he went into the other cell while the sheriff spewed a steady stream of profanities.

"I'll get you three, sure as my name is…agh, ugh…" the dingy cloth plugged up the lawman's next words as the Kid shoved it into his mouth.

With a broad grin, Curry pulled the door to the cell shut. "Thanks for the entertainment, Sheriff, but you know what they say…no good deed goes unpunished."


End file.
